


it's a sign of the times (welcome to the final show)

by neonnight89



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Angst and Humor, Background Relationships, Detective Derek Hale, Detective Erica Reyes, F/M, Lydia and Stiles are BFFs, M/M, Past Underage, Private Investigator AU, Private Investigator Stiles Stilinski, Psycho Kate, Slow Build, Stiles Has Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonnight89/pseuds/neonnight89
Summary: Welcome to Alpha Eye Agency, run by the endearing (if a bit spastic) Stiles Stilinski, PI.  He is the master of all things lost and hidden…  That’s what he tells himself and his friends, at least.  When one of his close friends approaches him with a strange request, he can’t say no.Stiles finds himself dragged into a dangerous dance with a murderer, his only allies two detectives with motives of their own.  And if one is hot like burning with eyebrows that talk more than the man himself...who is Stiles to complain?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright! Second attempt at a Sterek fanfic! This one is a lot more my style than Fifteen Year Plan. I'm not good at prolonged fluff. :/ But! This was a story that grew in my head after seeing a beautiful fanart of Stiles as a PI (though I can't for the life of me remember where I saw it or who the artist was). 
> 
> I'm sure there are tags that I'm forgetting and I'm sorry if anyone is too terribly ooc. Also, I feel I should mention that I am not a PI, a detective, or a psycho woman so if anything doesn't make sense or realistic about procedures...blame it on magic? haha
> 
> Anywho, I've already got a few chapters written, so I'm hoping to stay ahead of it and post one every few days. Hope you guys enjoy!

The cemetery was peaceful.  Open space dotted with old trees that offered the occasional shade, butterflies dodging through the stone memorials.  It was sunny and warm for spring, which seemed strange.  It always felt wrong to be in a cemetery when it was sunny.  Walking through the wrought iron gates should have been some portal to a perpetually overcast day with the occasional misting of rain.  Reflect the mood of those who visited.  The people who needed the memorials in the first place.

Stiles shook himself as he focused back on the simple headstone in front of him.  He was careful to avoid the freshly covered space in front of it.  Twisting his lips, he leaned down to peer at the name and dates before lifting his camera and snapping a picture.  

Ten minutes later, he slid back into the sleek black company car.  Lydia had insisted that he have a proper, professional vehicle to at least give a good first impression and, even amid his grumbling, Stiles had to admit she had a point.  Besides, it was good to have a car that was guaranteed to start and run if he got into any situations.  Roscoe was lovingly (and safely) parked in the lot in direct line of sight from his office’s windows.  

It didn’t stop the sense of betrayal he felt whenever he slid into the smooth, leather interior of the Lexus, though.  It was too much and Lydia knew it.  She probably did it just to make him feel uncomfortable wherever he went.

He tossed the camera onto the passenger seat, leaned his head back against the rest, and closed his eyes.  He’d had a feeling this case was going to end this way.  It was just uncomfortable and sad and he would have to refund the nice old woman her deposit back.  Which sucked.  He’d been hoping to be able to cover the overhead for the agency this month without needing Lydia to pitch in, but this meant he’d be just shy.  Not the end of the world, but now he’d have to show up at another one of Jackson’s stupid car events to keep her company.  Stiles knew he owed Lydia his life, soul, and first born child if it ever came down to any of those things, but formal events where he was surrounded by rich snobs were the bane of his existence.  Besides...Jackson was there, which was awful in itself.

Driving back to the office, he made a mental list of all the evidence he should have on hand when he explained to Mrs. Sinclair that her husband wasn’t missing.  The photograph of the headstone was the nail in the co -- nevermind.  After meeting with the old woman’s daughter (who calmly explained that her mother had attended the funeral with her), he wanted to make sure there was no question.  And maybe it wouldn’t even matter.  Maybe she wouldn’t believe him anyway.

Trauma did that to a person sometimes.  He was very familiar with it.

Swinging into a parking spot, he noticed Allison’s SUV next to Roscoe.  A frown flitted across his face as he tried to remember if they’d made lunch plans.  It wouldn’t be the first time Stiles had forgotten something like that.  With a groan, he jumped out of the car and hustled across the street, camera in hand.  Instead of waiting for the elevator, he went for the stairs.  It was only three flights...he could handle this.  Friendship was worth it.

Arriving on the landing in record time (and questioning his lack of a workout routine), Stiles staggered around the corner to the hallway where there were three chairs lined up.  Allison was sitting there, legs crossed as she browsed through whatever inane magazine was left there from two years ago.  She looked magnificent, as always, but he wondered at the lack of Scott.

She glanced up and smiled brightly, “Hey, Stiles!”

Giving a vague wave back, he bent over to try and catch his breath, “Hey.  Allison.  Yeah.”

The magazine was tossed back onto the little stand as she launched herself up and came toward him, concerned, “Are you okay?”

With a deep breath, he stood and nodded, “Yeah.  Totally.  Just...need to take up running or something.  I’m so sorry if I forgot that we had lunch planned, I just--”

“Stiles!” she said, laughing as she held up both hands, “There were no plans.”

“Oh...cool.” He offered a lopsided smile before heading toward the door to his office. The frosted glass window announced it was home to the Alpha Eye Investigation Agency - a terrible name that Scott had come up with, but he was so proud of himself Stiles couldn’t say no. He’d been afraid for his life when it came time to convince Lydia. He had to admit, the wolf logo she’d provided for him actually looked pretty cool, though. So...cheesy name, awesome logo.  

Pushing in, he held the door for Allison before making his way to the disaster area that was his desk.  Nudging some maps on the Skittles case (a missing cat that kept appearing whenever Stiles was looking for it, but eluding him when it came to capture - Stiles was considering just setting up an ‘accident’ instead of returning the demon when he finally caught it) off to the side, he plugged the memory card from the camera into his laptop and let them load.

“Have you ever considered getting a receptionist?”  Allison was looking around with a familiar look of thinly veiled disapproval, “I mean...maybe it would be...cleaner in here?”

Stiles snorted, “Having some neat freak mess up my carefully executed organization?  No thank you.”  He stood, straightening another pile of papers off to the side.  See, he could make things look nice.  Looking back up, he leaned his hip against the desk, “So...if it’s not for lunch...what can I do you for?”

At that, her amused smile dropped a bit of wattage and she glanced back at the now-closed door, “Well, I actually want to hire you.”

Shock ran up his spine, “Whoa…I won’t spy on my best friend if that’s what yo--”

“No!  No, no, no,” she burst out laughing, shaking her head, “No, I don’t need to you spy on Scott.”

“Good.  Because I can already tell you he’s clean as a whistle and head over heels.  I think he’s more scared of  _ you _ leaving  _ him _ before the wedding.”

Allison flashed her dimples at him, her hands going to lay gently on the small bump of her belly, “He should have no worries about that.  I do want our kid to have the best father ever, after all.”

His gooey center was melting at the cuteness of it all.  Why did he have to be best friends with the most adorable, mushy couple ever?  Right...because he was living vicariously through them.  The private investigation field didn’t really have him meeting the types of people he would want to date and...well, it really seemed to just take up the rest of his life, too.  Whenever he got home, he’d browse through case files instead of watching television or going out.  The only times he managed non-work-related social interactions were when Lydia or Scott and Allison had the energy to make him presentable and drag him kicking and screaming out of the house.

Stiles gestured to the empty chairs opposite his desk and they both took a seat.  Pulling out a notepad and a pen, he raised his eyebrows, “Alright, what’re the details?”

“I just need you to confirm someone’s identity for me.”  She clasped her hands in her lap, fingers tight around each other, “A woman my father used to associate with a long time ago.  She was...strange...and so he took steps to keep her out of our lives.”

“‘Strange?’”

A frown slid across his friend’s face, “Just trust me on this one.”

Pursing his lips, Stiles dropped his gaze and underlined the word ‘strange’ on his notepad.  Great.  

“Anyway,” she continued, “we haven’t heard of or from her for over a decade, but recently my dad started hearing rumors that she was here in the city.  I’d check it out myself, but...I don’t want her to recognize me.”  Her right hand freed itself to settle on her belly again, “And I’d rather you didn’t tell Scott about this.  I don’t want him to worry.”  Her features pinched with unhappiness, “You know how he gets when he thinks there’s something wrong.”

Stiles knew all too well about Scott’s savior complex.  He was a kitten, but thought he was a big scary rottweiler or something.  Right now, though, Stiles was getting the feeling that Scott wouldn’t be incorrect about thinking something was wrong.  Instead of saying anything, though, he leaned forward and met her eyes, “Hey, I totally get it.  Besides, this is what I do for a living.  Safer to trust a professional.”  God, he rarely actually  _ felt _ like a professional, but he wasn’t about to tell his friend that. But a simple identification was something he could do with his eyes closed...well, maybe not, but...nevermind.

Allison rewarded him with a grateful smile, “You’re the best, Stiles.”

Shaking his head, he shifted back in his chair, “So...details about this crazy lady.  Name?  What she looks like?  Better yet...do you have a picture?”

Nodding, Allison pulled a folded photograph out of her pocket.  He took it carefully and examined the woman in it.  The picture itself looked like a candid of her walking across the street, looking at something to her left.  She had long, dark blonde hair that curled down her back and blue eyes.  She was beautiful.  Also scary.  Stiles couldn’t put his finger on it, but her expression seemed...cold.

‘Strange,’ huh?

“The picture is about ten or fifteen years old, but from what my dad heard, she looks pretty much the same.  Her name is Kate.  I think the last name she goes by now is Thompson.”

He wrote that down before glancing back up at Allison, “What did she used to go by?”

She raised her eyebrows, “She goes by Kate Thompson now.  That’s all you need to know.”  At his frown, she sighed, “I know.  I feel awful asking you to do this, but...the less you know, the better.  I don’t want you to talk to her, make eye contact with her, or even...even get within ten feet of her.  I just need to know if it  _ is _ her.”

Narrowing his eyes, he asked slowly, “Allison...is everything okay?  I mean, what you’re telling me is not giving me ‘harmless’ vibes on this lady.”

“She’s not harmless,” was the firm response.  “Which is why I’m asking you to do this.  My father and I have to know if it’s her.”

With a sigh, Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, “Fine.  Fine.”  He clipped the photo to his notebook, “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll do it.”  

Her smile was half-hearted, “Thanks, Stiles.  Really.”

She gave him a few more details about the rumors her father had heard about where this 'Kate' might be.  It would at least give him a place to start.  When she’d offered all she was willing to, they stood and he walked Allison toward the door, “It could take a couple days or a week or maybe forever if it’s not even her.  I’ll keep you in the loop.”  In the doorway, he reached out and tugged at her elbow, “Just...if it’s something serious and you need more help than just an ID, let me know, alright?”

She looked at him for a long moment before nodding, “I will.  Just...be careful.  And don’t tell Scott?”

He held his hand up like he was taking an oath, “I solemnly swear.”

Leaning in, Allison kissed his cheek before heading down the hallway.  He watched her turn the corner for the elevators before heaving a quiet groan and putting his face in his hands.  This was going to turn into a cluster.  He could just tell.  

The things he did for his friends.  

Moving back into the office and closing the door he approached the desk.  After slumping down into his chair, he pulled the notebook back toward him and glared down at the photograph.  He didn’t like keeping things from Scott, but he trusted Allison.  Enough that he hadn’t pressed for details.  Hell if he was gonna let some crazy lady interfere with his friends’ fairytale story if he could do anything about it.  And maybe it would end up just being someone who looked like Kate and not actually her.  Wouldn’t that be nice?

He huffed a laugh at himself.  His luck wasn’t  _ that _ great.  Never had been.

Picking up the phone, he pulled open his contact book.  May as well start getting feelers out there.  He had a feeling he’d need all the help he could get on this one.


	2. Chapter 2

“Stiles, you are coming with me to the gala tomorrow night.”

Lydia’s voice brooked no argument, but he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t at least try, “Lyds, I’d love to, but I’ve actually got--”

“You don’t have a case to work tomorrow night.”

“But--”

“Do you want me to go through all the trouble of temporarily shutting the agency down, Stiles?  I hear rats can be a real problem in those old buildings.”

His mouth dropped open in horror, “You  _ wouldn’t _ !  It’s your business, too!”

The tone on the other end of the line grew bored, “Unlike you,  _ I  _ don’t need the job.  I’ll be at your house at six to help get you ready.”

The line went dead and he stuck his tongue out at his cell phone before dropping it back into his pocket.  

This was an awful day.  He hated it with his entire being.  Pretty sure he would mark it down in his personal calendar if he had one.  As it was, all he had was a work calendar and he’d be too terrified that Lydia would see it and know that she was part of it.  As evidenced, she was the queen of ruining his life if she so felt the urge.

Groaning, rested his forehead on the cool surface of his desk.  After Allison’s visit yesterday, he’d spent the rest of the afternoon talking to his contacts in the rumored area.  A few he’d had to leave messages for, but so far there was nothing.  Which was good.  Right?

But then today, he’d had to go explain to Mrs. Sinclair about her husband, which had turned into three hours of sobbing and yelling and objects being thrown until her daughter had shown up.  Only then did the old woman believe what he was saying and...all around it was just uncomfortable.  He had a throbbing headache.  And then he could have  _ sworn _ that he’d seen Skittles (the  _ demon spawn _ ) prowling in the parking lot even though the cat loitered around a completely different neighborhood near its distraught owner’s residence.  So he spent about two hours chasing a tabby until he finally cornered it and found it wasn’t Skittles at all.  There had been fear in its eyes instead of the burning fires of hell.  

After that, he’d felt guilty for scaring the cat,  the headache was getting stronger, and he was still nursing a bruise on his shoulder from one of Mrs. Sinclair’s well-aimed Willow Tree figurines.  He was pretty sure it was the kneeling angel one.  

Stiles thought he would be able to escape the day by holing himself up in his office and work on pet project cases, but then the Goddess herself had to call and pull him even further into this pit of a day.  

The phone rang from underneath a pile of papers.

He glared at it.

Considered not picking it up as a sort of middle-finger to the universe because he could almost  _ guarantee _ that it was not a good phone call.

Then he unearthed it and picked it up.

“Alpha Eye Investigation, this is Stiles.”  He tried not to let the overwhelming awfulness of the day to bleed into his voice.

“Rough day?”  

He apparently was doing a terrible job of it.  

“Hey Chuck.  You could say that.”

His contact laughed, “I been there.  Hey, got your message.  And yeah, I’ve seen a broad like the picture you sent hanging around the South Side.  Try Debbie’s cafe.  I asked and Debbie said the lady is usually there in the evenings.”

Stiles took a moment to process that.  Something actually panned out today?  He grinned, “You’re the best, Chuck.  If it checks out, I’ll stop by with a payment for you.  How’re Roberta and the kids?”

He spent another half hour on the phone with Chuck before he managed to disentangle himself from a conversation about the ins and outs of the chicken pox.  He’d had it when he was little and didn’t want to ever think about it again, thank you very much.

Shoving papers out of the way, he pulled Kate Thompson’s file toward him.  He’d been crossing out places she hadn’t been seen and putting maybe’s where people said they’d seen a pretty blonde who could be her.  None of them had been definite on it, though.  Chuck had seemed pretty positive.  So that’s where he’d start.  Stiles circled the South Side with a red pen before putting a small ‘x’ where Debbie’s Cafe was.  

Glancing at the clock, he considered his options.  There wasn’t necessarily a rush on the case, but there was the urge to get it done as soon as possible for Allison.  He could probably run home, reheat something to eat, and get over to the cafe before the sun went down.  He could make it.  If it was the promise of putting Kate Thompson behind him, he was all aboard.  He just hoped he wasn’t tempting fate by trying to do this on the day from hell.

Grabbing his jacket, he locked up and jogged to the stairs (which he was making an effort to use more often).  Once in the parking lot, he briefly debated whether to take the company car or Roscoe.  He ended up in the Lexus by the pure fact that time was of the essence.  There was a long minute of profuse apologies to his baby before he actually drove away.  

When he got home, he went through some of his clothes to pick a good, inconspicuous outfit.  If Lydia was to be believed, most of his outfit choices were awful.  He didn’t know if they were awful enough to stand out to regular human beings, but Stiles wanted to at least pretend that he was able to dress himself normally.  He went with a Batman shirt because  _ everyone _ wears those.  Or they should.  Even if they didn’t, maybe he’d start a trend.  Just to be safe, he threw a zip up hoodie over it and a pair of comfy jeans.  Then he proceeded to raid his own fridge for something that wasn’t past it’s due date or growing something.  He really needed to do some self-reflection when his fridge started looking like a scene from  _ The Thing _ .  Settling on some day old pizza, he plopped down on his sofa and opened his laptop on the coffee table.

He’d been trying to find any information on Kate Thompson.  Allison’s descriptions were enough for him to do his job, sure, but he’d never been one to just leave it at that.  His curiosity would be satisfied, even if it killed him.  And that made him think of Skittles, so he needed to focus.  The thing was...there was nothing.  Sure there were Kate Thompson’s in the world, but none of the ones he found were  _ The _ Kate Thompson.  If she existed, he would have found her already and traced back to her previous names.  As it was, the woman with the name in question didn’t exist.  At least not in any of the places he’d looked that were  _ legal _ .  He didn’t know if any of this warranted him toeing the line so he left the gray areas of research behind for now.

It didn’t make him happy, but he did it.

Finishing his food, Stiles checked to make sure he had everything, including a small can of mace slipped into the pockets of his jeans.  One couldn’t be too sure with crazy people, after all.  If the plan went off without a hitch, he’d do the ID and leave, no harm no foul.  His life experiences had taught him to always be prepared.  Plans had a tendency to get a little...bendy sometimes.

An hour later, he was parking the Lexus in a lit parking garage.  The cafe was a few blocks away, but he didn’t want to piss Lydia off by getting her fancy car stolen.  The walk there was uneventful.  He didn’t make eye contact with any of the ladies standing sporadically along his way.  He respected the job they had to do, but he wasn’t interested in anything they had to offer.  And he was flustered enough with the case already.  The last thing he needed was to give someone an awkward rejection.

The cafe itself was bright with warm yellow light and a neon sign that announced it was Debbie’s in a loopy, pink cursive script.  He liked it immediately.  The bell jingled as he pushed the door open and took in the orange countertops and uncomfortable-looking booths.  The stools at the counter looked more appealing, so he made his way to the one at the far end, removed enough from the bulk of the customers, but close enough it didn’t set off alarms.  It also gave him a good view of the rest of the room.  

A wall of muscle approached him from behind the counter and Stiles took in the grisly tattoos that covered the man’s arms.  Lots of grim reaper themes there.  The man wiped his hands off on the apron that stretched over the beginning of a beer belly before grabbing a menu and tossing it toward Stiles.  Nodding his thanks, he started looking it over, even though he already knew he’d end up just getting a coffee.

It gave him a chance to peer over it at the other customers.  No beautiful blondes with cold eyes in sight.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  If he was honest, a part of him was alright with the idea that this would be a wasted stakeout.  The other part, the protective part, wanted a definitive confirmation so they could get working on how to keep the woman away from Allison and Scott forever.  Chris had a scary vibe to him, so between the group of them, Stiles was sure they’d be able to figure something out.

The man came back as he set the menu down and he ordered his coffee.

Two hours later, Stiles was halfway through the book he’d brought with him as a cover.  He also knew that the man behind the counter was named Jim and he was having troubles with his two girlfriends ever since they found out about each other.  Even with all that productivity, there was no Kate Thompson.  He was starting to think he should have asked Chuck if Debbie had a specific time frame that the mystery woman normally showed up.

He was going to finish this chapter and call it quits.  He needed a good night’s rest if he was supposed to put up with going out with Lydia the next evening.  He was just marking his page and signalling Jim when the door jingled and he glanced over to see Kate Thompson walk up to the counter.  His breath caught in his throat and he froze.  Jim nodded at her in greeting as he made his way towards Stiles.   Kate followed the movement and made direct eye contact with Stiles.

His brain screamed at him to do something.  To act normal.

He offered a small smile before letting himself get distracted by Jim.  Ignoring the panic that was fluttering just behind his ribs, he asked for the check.  

As Jim walked away, Stiles didn’t look back over at the blonde.  It was her.  Without a doubt.  He drummed his fingers on the cover of the book as he watched the other man run his card and start printing off the receipt.  

A body settled on the stool next to his, accompanied by a friendly, “Hey there.”

He glanced over and his mind went blank.  

Fuck.

So much for no contact.

Forcing a small smile, he nodded at Kate, “Hey.”  She was scarier up close.

Leaning her elbow on the counter and turning the stool toward him, she smiled, “I haven’t seen you around here before.”  Her grin widened as she made a show of dragging her eyes over his frame, “And I would’ve noticed.”

He suppressed a shudder at the feel of her gaze, “Yeah, just...passing through.”  He glanced back toward Jim, who was  _ taking his sweet ass time _ .

“So what’s your name?”  There was a hand brushing down his arm.

He blinked, “Jim.  James.  Jim.”

She laughed and he looked back over at her, “Jim James Jim?  What a fun name.”

“I go by Jim.”

“Mmm, good name.  So,  _ Jim _ ,” she drew it out like it was something she enjoyed the taste of, “would you--”

The receipt was slapped down in front of him and he lunged for it.  The real Jim asked if Kate had decided what she wanted yet.  Stiles ignored the creepy response of, “Oh, I know  _ exactly _ what I want.  But I’ll just settle for an omelette from you.”

Signing the receipt and leaving an insanely large tip, Stiles slid the paper back to his new best friend.  “Thanks.  Hope everything goes well with the ladies.”  Jim grinned at him before grabbing the slip and turning away to put in Kate’s order.

The woman in question was pouting - certifiably pouting - when he slid off the stool and gathered up his book.  Only Lydia could pull of pouting.  Kate’s was just...sad in comparison.  He tried for a friendly smile, “Nice to meet you…?”

Her smile came back, but this time it was almost a baring of teeth, “Kate.”

Confirmed.  He nodded, “Well, have a good night.”

“You too, cutie.”

He didn’t look back, instead trying to get out of the cafe as fast as he could in the most casual fashion possible.  His heart was trying to do a tap dance through his chest and he was doing his best to control his breathing.  Those weren’t the eyes of someone ‘strange.’  He could handle ‘strange.’   _ Had _ handled ‘strange’ plenty of times before.  He made it a block before he moved to a brick wall and leaned heavily against it.

Those were the eyes of something evil.  In the photo, he couldn’t be quite sure.  In person, there was no doubt.  He’d seen those kind of eyes before.  

He should probably start walking before memories started flaring back up.  About to push off the wall and get moving, he felt a hand settle on his shoulder.  The sound he made wasn’t manly in the slightest, but the mace was in his hand even as he spun around, lifting and aiming it with a confidence he didn’t feel.  

It was a blonde, but not Kate.  Her hair was lighter and her makeup was bold.  She wore a fabric corset over a low-cut white top.  Her denim shorts were barely there and her legs were clothed in a pair of fishnets.  To top it all off, she was wearing knee high black boots that looked absolutely sinful.

Taking in her look of surprise and raised hands, he fumbled the can of mace back into his pocket, apologizing profusely while trying to ignore the looks they were getting from people passing by.  “Sorry, I’m so sorry.  Oh my god.  I thought you were...ugh.  Nevermind.  I’m so so sorry.”

“Woah, buddy.  It’s fine,” the woman assured him, “I know exactly what it’s like.  In my line of work, you gotta protect yourself, too, y’know?”

Stiles breathed out heavily, “I can imagine.”

The woman grinned wide, her brown eyes warming, “Well, maybe I can help you forget about whoever you thought I was?  We could take this somewhere a little more...private?”  She stepped in closer, hands lifting to lightly grip the fabric of his zip-up.  “I’ll even give you a discount, ‘cuz you’re cute.”

He blinked at the change, but he held up his hands, “Oh.  No.  Sorry.”

The woman’s fingers loosened and slid away, “But why not?  Trust me, I’m good at what I do.”

A laugh bubbled out of him, “I’m sure you are.  You’re gorgeous.”  Her smile shifted and he had a feeling he was seeing a real one this time.  “But...not my type.”  He winked at her before pulling out the can of mace again and tossing it to her, “I don’t have much further to walk.  Count this as a thanks for the distraction.”

He waved and then turned and started on his way again.

“Thanks, buddy!”

A smile broke across his face and lingered as he made his way back toward the illuminated garage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited for the next chapter. We get to spend a little time with Lydia (who is the best best friend a boy could ask for) and a certain sourwolf will finally make an appearance! :D Stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for the long wait on this chapter! RL has been a bit hectic. Anywho, here is the latest installment filled with Lydia and the appearance of Derek! :D Let me know what you guys think and thanks so much for reading.

The next day he called Allison, but she didn’t pick up so he left a message asking her to call him back as soon as possible.  He didn’t think she’d give him any answers, but he sure as hell was going to ask some questions.  A woman like Kate should not be anywhere near his best friend, his best friend’s fiance, and his future godchild.  It wasn’t allowed.  Not if Stiles had any say in the matter.  

After that, his work day started with a couple of hours hunting Skittles (who continued to taunt him with the appearing and disappearing act) and ended with him spending the rest of it cooped up in the Lexus on a stakeout.  The man who hired him was convinced his wife was cheating on him with another man.  By the time Stiles called it quits, he was able to confirm that the man’s suspicions  _ were _ founded - he just had the wrong gender.  

When he got back to the office, he downloaded the photographs he’d reluctantly taken of the happy couple (a job was a job, after all) and printed them out.  Organizing the file he’d put together over the past week, Stiles called his evidence collection done.  He had a feeling the man’s wife was planning on ending the marriage soon anyhow.  The two women hadn’t even been trying to hide their relationship.  They went on dates in public, kissed and held hands, and even did that thing where they fed each other cake.  It was ridiculously adorable.  All in all, it had felt like they wanted to get caught, so either he was moving up their scheduled divorce or he was clearing the air for a fresh start.  At least that was what he told himself.

Finishing that file up, he moved on to documenting his most recent adventure with Skittles before turning off the electronics and locking up.  He had to get home to take a shower and prepare for Lydia’s arrival.  One didn’t make Ms. Martin wait if they knew what was good for them, after all.

As he pulled Roscoe into the garage, his phone buzzed.  It was a text from Allison saying she had been busy all day and she and Scott had a lamaze class starting right now but could she maybe swing by the office before lunch tomorrow?  He told her that would work and then piled out of the Jeep.  If she wasn’t that worried about it, then he would try not to be.  

Sometimes he  _ did _ have the tendency to obsess and worry too much.  He hoped this was just one of those times.

As it was, the last thing he wanted to do was go to a formal event, stare at cars he couldn’t afford surrounded by people who could, and spend any amount of time in the same room as Jackson.  Demonic cats aside, this day had been a lot better than the one before, so he supposed he was due for a little bit of torture from his favorite asshole.

He was about five minutes out of the shower when there was a prim knock on the door.  Throwing on a t-shirt that didn’t smell awful and a pair of sweatpants, he jogged over and granted the red-haired goddess of his life entrance to his humble abode.  She pursed her lips as she took in his freshly showered state before ushering him to his room.

Twenty minutes and five shirts later, she was satisfied and smoothing out his dress jacket.  Her lips tilted into a smirk, “At least you showered before I got here this time.  That’s improvement.”

Rolling his eyes, he shooed her hands away, “I do try to be an upstanding citizen.”  She raised her eyebrows.  “Okay,  _ sometimes _ I try to be an upstanding citizen.  Especially when my  _ job _ is threatened.”

Lydia ignored the glare he threw her way and started pushing him toward the door of his room, “I do all of this out of love.  Now get out so I can get changed.”

How the woman could get even more glamorous was always beyond him, but when she stepped out in a form-fitting blue dress, hair artfully put up, and makeup pristine, he was (as always) blown away.  He never had to wonder why he’d been so taken with her when he was younger.  Her mind, her charm and wit, her sass, and the way a backless dress on her  _ still _ made his palms sweat...she was the whole package.  But they were amazing friends now and he knew himself better.  

Besides, Jackson probably wouldn’t have made it through that thing with his parents if Lydia hadn’t been his rock.  Stiles was willing (albeit reluctantly) to share her for the benefit of Jackson’s slightly improved personality.

On the drive over, Stiles filled Lydia in on the goings-on of the agency.  For a brief moment, he considered telling her about Allison’s case, but since he wasn’t planning on taking any payment for it, it technically wasn’t under the agency’s umbrella.  Besides...he wanted to talk to Allison before sharing with anyone else.  At his story about the never-ending case of Skittles the Demon-Kitty, Lydia rolled her eyes (though he counted the fond smile as a win) and she told him to stop talking about work.  She was caught up enough to know he was still getting cases.  If there weren’t any, she would pull some strings and funnel people his way.  She was a great CEO/partner that way.  

The Whittemore Automotive Annual Gala was technically a public event.  If one didn’t show up in a suit or a formal dress, however, they would not be admitted.  Jackson was a peach that way.  Even his best customers had to abide by the rule, which had caused some problems the first few events, but now everyone had the memo.  Spend a pretty penny on your outfit (or rent a quality one) and you might get a better discount on one of the elite vehicles unveiled for the showroom at the event.

This was Stiles third gala and he hated it just as much as the first one.  He didn’t have a big presence or a sophisticated air or give enough of a shit about fancy cars to try.  Mostly he just talked a lot of pointless facts at people or started rambling until they politely excused themselves.  Make ‘em squirm.

When they arrived, Lydia led them to the offices, where Jackson was giving a pep talk to his top sales team.  ‘You’re the sharks.  The showroom is the water.  The guests are the chum.’  Yada, yada, yada.  It was always something macho and bloody and predatory.  He tuned it out as they finished with firm handshakes and ‘good lucks’ before the team dispersed to mingle and sleaze their way through the crowd.  

Jackson came over and pulled Lydia into a quick kiss before he shot a sneer at Stiles, “So you managed to clear your busy schedule of people’s inane problems to join us.  Pity.”

With a sigh, Stiles narrowed his eyes at the other man, “Too bad your girlfriend likes my company more than yours.”

Lydia grinned, “He does have a point,” before patting Jackson reassuringly on the shoulder and detaching herself to loop her arm through Stiles’.  As they walked away, she called over her shoulder, “Go be a big, bad shark, love.”

And then they were through the doors to the glitzed out showroom.  There were three raised, circular pedestals with purple velvet covers draped over the to-be-revealed new arrivals.  Dispersed throughout it all were the current top sellers, accompanied by salespeople and buyers alike.  

Lydia liked to insist that these events were great for marketing the agency.  Stiles was of the opinion that the marketing would be done a lot better if he weren’t there to put people off.  Lydia dazzled and Stiles was the harsh reality.  She insisted she was shaping him into someone who would be able to dazzle on his own in no time.  He sincerely doubted that, but he appreciated the sentiment.  Besides, he was okay not being dazzling.  Dazzling was overrated.

The night drug on and Stiles started partaking in the champagne as Lydia pulled him from one group of uninteresting people to another.  He started to relax enough to sway to the music and his friend didn’t need another invitation to get him out on the dancefloor.  Luckily, others had been drinking before him, so they weren’t the only ones out there.  His awkward flailing was not something that should be a solo act.

A few songs later saw them giggling and stumbling off into the crowd again and he had to admit that he secretly did like things like this.  He got to spend time with one of his best friends and help her let her guard down.  He didn’t think she got to do that very often.  That was the best thing about their friendship...they balanced each other out and built each other up when the other fell short.  Where Scott’s best friendship was an instant soulmate blood-brother bond of equal awesomeness, his friendship with Lydia had been hard fought, hard won, and just as brilliant.

Lydia beamed at him, “I can’t believe you tried to do the worm in the middle of the dance floor.”

He crooned, “Anything for you, Lyds.”

“I love you, you idiot,” she grumbled before pulling him into a hug.  He laughed again and swung her around in a circle.  She squealed and hit his shoulders until he set her down and let her go.  She shot him a mock-stern look, “You behave now, Mr. Stilinski.  I have to go visit the ladies room.”

Gesturing his thumb at one of the tables set up along the wall, he grinned, “And I’m about to visit the buffet table.  You’ll know where to find me.”

He watched her wander through the crowd before turning and making his way to the food.  Another perk of going to Jackson’s events was the buffet table.  He didn’t know how they made their chocolate fountain taste so good, but there were some things in life that shouldn’t be questioned.  

He was piling some delectable looking pastries onto his already full plate when someone stumbled into him and half of his selections fell onto the floor.  “Aw, shit,” he hissed before groaning.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”

Stiles didn’t realize the person who’d jostled him had actually stopped and he looked up...to take a moment to remember the man forever.  He was all broad shoulders, narrow hips, cheekbones of a god, stubble that made Stiles’ knees weak, and eyes that he couldn’t figure out the color of.  What.  

“Is this real life?” he blurted before his filter caught up.

Model Man’s thick eyebrows drew down, but the corners of his lips tilted up, “Uh...pretty sure?”

Stiles shook himself, “Oh.  Sorry.  Um…” he looked back down at the food piled on the floor, “...I was really looking forward to eating all of that.”

The other man grabbed a napkin and started picking the stuff up and Stiles belatedly joined in.  And he did what he did best, ramble about how delicious the food here is every year, but he has to say this year might be the best he’s ever had the privilege of enjoying.  And he may have been looking right at Model Man when he said that.  And MM’s lips may have twitched upward again and  _ maybe _ his ears even turned a little pink.  

And Stiles was in heaven.  Now all he had to do was actually get the guy to smile.  Or laugh.  Or take all his clothes off.  There were a lot of things Stiles needed to do with the man, honestly.

They stood back up and Stiles busied himself with refilling his plate as MM stuck around.  They chatted about the cars, Stiles admitting he didn’t know much about fancy cars and the beautiful man explaining that he owned a Camaro.  The resulting image of MM paired with a car like that had Stiles  _ really _ wishing he were dazzling right about now.  The guy was shy and slightly awkward, not talking much at first.  Stiles could handle that, though.  He chattered on while the tension slowly bled out of the other man’s shoulders and he started interjecting more frequently.

Lydia approached from the crowd, but she paused a few yards away.  Stiles saw her take in MM, smirk knowingly at Stiles, and mouth ‘don’t be weird’ before disappearing back into the mass of people.

MM’s name was Derek and he was lovely.  As in sweet and nice and knowledgeable.  The rest of him Stiles would just call...was there a word for how attracted Stiles was to him right now?  He didn’t know and he didn’t have the brain space to think about it.  He was still trying to comprehend how Derek was still talking to him two hours later.  They were sitting at one of the abandoned tables, ignoring the final new car reveal, as they argued about superheroes and Star Wars and Stiles was pretty sure he was in love.

The event was winding down when Lydia texted him asking whether she should wait for him or should she go.  He was trying to decide what to do.

Derek cleared his throat, distracting Stiles from his decision, “Uh...I don’t know what your plans are, but…” his ears were  _ definitely _ pink, “would you maybe want to go get a coffee or a drink or something?”

“Now?”

The other man shrugged, “Or later or whene--”

“Now’s great,” Stiles interrupted with a grin.  He texted Lydia back that she could go.  She responded with a ‘Go get him, tiger’ accompanied by a wink emoji.  She was his favorite.

He and Derek exited the building and made the decision to walk.  The nearest bar was only a couple blocks over.  They chatted the entire time as they wove through the rest of the departing crowd.  Quite a few people seemed to have the same idea and they showed up to storm the bar as a group.  

Their conversation just kept...going.  They never talked about anything personal, just kept arguing about various things, but it was normal.  Natural.  It felt easy.  So when he’d had a few more beers in him and Derek finally  _ (finally) _ tilted his head back for a full on laugh, Stiles didn’t think.  Instead, he just leaned in and caught Derek’s closing lips in a kiss.  It wasn’t perfect by any means, but Stiles was warm from alcohol and maybe he felt just a little bit dazzling.  Just a smidgen.  That feeling went to a full on supernova when Derek responded by cradling a hand around Stiles’ neck and pulling him deeper.  The kiss went from slightly awkward to extremely hot.  Downright filthy.  

And they had to get out of the bar.  

They stumbled out, hands grasping and lips bruising.  They made it to the darkened alley a block over and Derek led him into the shadows without breaking the kiss.  Stiles had never done it in an alley before and it wouldn’t be his first choice with what was shaping up to be (almost guaranteed) his soulmate, but he wasn’t complaining.  Derek pushed him up against the hard brick and Stiles hadn’t realized that that was a turn-on for him, but he was filing it away for later when he wasn’t engaged in things that were  _ far more important _ .  He groaned and tangled his fingers in Derek’s short hair, trying to deepen the kiss.  Derek was grappling for his arms until Stiles released him and then…

Derek stepped back, hands on Stiles shoulders keeping him where he was.  Stiles whined in confusion and gripped at Derek’s forearms (which were as impressive as the rest of him).

Then, “Wow, Derek.  Didn’t realize you had it in you.”

Stiles  _ knew that voice _ .  He frowned and glanced toward it to see the prostitute from the other night.  Except she no longer looked like a prostitute.  She’d traded the corset for a leather jacket, jeans, and sensible black shoes.  She still wore her makeup bold, but not quite as fierce as last time he’d seen her.

He blinked, “I know you.”  Stiles also knew that he was very confused.  Derek and the woman obviously knew each other.  But why was she showing up in the middle of a very promising makeout session?  Was she Derek’s worst friend ever?

She smiled at Stiles and it was surprisingly soft, “Hey, buddy.”

He glanced back at Derek, but the other man was avoiding his eyes like a pro.  What the fuck was going on here?

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Derek reached into his suit jacket to pull out a badge.  The blonde did the same.

Because of course.  In what universe would a guy like Derek actually want a guy like Stiles.  And he’d thought this night was turning out so well.  Reality was a bitch.

At Derek’s silence, the woman spoke up, “I’m Detective Reyes.  This is Detective Hale.  We have a few questions for you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles knew his rights.  He also knew that this was the most fucked up way of rounding someone up for questions.  There was nothing requiring him to go with them.  He hadn’t done anything wrong, but, as always, his curiosity won out.  

Yes.  Curiosity won out over crushing disappointment and a shattered ego.  An ego he didn’t remember having before Derek started kissing him back.

So that was how he ended up in the back of a nondescript dark green sedan as far away as he could manage from the man sitting silent in the passenger seat as they drove to an undisclosed location.  Stiles shifted closer to the door of the car, the lapels of his jacket catching on the seatbelt. He frowned down at his suit, knowing Lydia would tut at him about getting it wrinkled, not to mention whatever grime it had potentially picked up from that brick wall when Derek had -- nope.   _ Big _ nope.  

That way lay madness.

He forced himself to glare out the window and watch as the opulent district of the city passed by.  They’d only left about five minutes ago and Detective Reyes (who insisted he call her Erica and he had not-so-politely refused) had told him that their destination wasn’t far.  And she had assured him it wasn’t a police station.  Which only made him more curious.  After their insistence of going somewhere more secure, there wasn’t any way Stiles could have said no.  He was fairly sure that his need for answers would be the death of him someday.  He  _ really  _ hoped it wasn’t today.

He had a feeling this whole situation something to do with Kate Thompson.  It was too much of a coincidence that an undercover detective just  _ happened _ to try and pick him up right after he’d had an encounter with a terrifying crazy woman and that  _ exact same _ detective showed up after another ruse was pulled to get him alone.  At least...if it wasn’t related to Kate, then Stiles was totally lost as to why he was stuck in a car with a sassy cop and a mute ex-imaginary-soulmate.   _ God  _ he wished his buzz hadn’t dried up the minute Detective Reyes had shown up.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he took a deep breath.  This was shaping up to be the most ridiculous and embarrassing night of his life.  And that was including the time a stakeout target had attacked him with a raw chicken breast after spotting him and for some reason jumping to the conclusion that he was there to steal their prized doll collection.  Dolls were creepy.  Scott hadn’t let him live that case down for two whole months.

“Here we are,” Detective Reyes announced as they pulled into the parking lot of an extended stay motel.  Stiles idly wondered if he was about to be murdered by some corrupt cops.

They got out and Reyes quickly led the way toward the side door, Derek ( _ Detective Hale _ ) bringing up the rear and keeping a very safe distance.  It didn’t go unnoticed.  A sharp thread of bitterness laced through Stiles, white hot and almost painful.  This was why he didn’t have a social life.  It was safer.

When they finally got to the room, Reyes ushered him in with a hand on his shoulder. He allowed himself to be directed.  The room contained two beds, a couch, and a small kitchenette.  There was a closed door connected to the kitchen that he assumed led to a bathroom.  All in all, not the murder den he would have imagined if the two detectives were actually killers of some sort.  Then again, murders could happen anywhere and anytime.

Stiles shrugged Reyes’ hand off and made a beeline for the couch, sprawling over it with a casualness he didn’t feel.  From the stiff way that they sat on the respective beds, the other two weren’t buying it.  

He rubbed the side of his face, “Okay, I think someone needs to explain some things to me.”  Glancing over, Der --  _ Hale’s _ eyes slid away and his eyebrows lowered as he glared at the blank television to his right like it had personally killed his puppy.  Clenching his jaw, Stiles turned his attention to Detective Reyes, who just looked tired.  He could relate. “Or ask your questions.  Either way, you gotta give me something here.”

The blonde leaned forward, elbows braced on her knees, “Mr. Stilinski...when I saw you last you were leaving Debbie’s Cafe on the South Side after having spoken to a wanted criminal.”

He went for a confused look, scrunching his eyebrows down, “Who?  Jim?”

"Don’t play stupid.  You know who she’s talking about.”  

The silence that fell as Stiles narrowed his eyes at Hale was tense.  For the first time since they stumbled out of the bar, the other man met his eyes and Stiles wondered if any of the past three hours had been real.  “Well I recently became aware of just how stupid I’m capable of being, so sue me if I want you both to spell it out for me.”  There was a flash of victory when the detective flinched back, but it was quickly followed by regret.  This was so fucked up.  Huffing out an irritated breath, he looked back to Reyes, “You mean Kate.”

She nodded, expression neutral, “Yeah.  Why were you there meeting with her?”

"I wasn’t supposed to meet with her...hell, I wasn’t supposed to have an contact with her at all.”  Stiles closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the arm of the couch, “I was hired to identify her and that was it.  I believe it was specified to not even make eye contact with her.”

“Then why did you?”

He opened his eyes to glare at the blonde, “I didn’t.  She spotted me and came over.”

Hale piped in again, “Who hired you to identify her?”

Stiles ignored him, still glaring at Reyes, “I’m not at liberty to share my client’s information with you.  I run a legitimate business.”

“We could charge you with obstruction.”

The smile that slipped onto Stiles’ lips was not friendly, “Or you could get a warrant and I’d gladly hand everything over.”  He lifted his eyebrows, “Maybe if you told me exactly what’s going on, I’d be more inclined to help,” he slid another glare over to Hale, “even in light of recent insults.”

The look the two detectives shot each other spoke volumes.   They weren’t going to give him anything.  He had no shits to give after everything that had happened.  They expected him to be a fount of information, but they wouldn't extend the same courtesy.  That pissed him off more than anything.

Hale finally looked away from Reyes, eyes dropping to the floor, “The less you know, the safer you are.”  He rubbed his face before grumbling, “Trust me.”

Stiles had to school his expression at the casually tossed phrase.  Instead, he pushed up off the sofa and brushed at his pants, “In that case, I’ll be calling a cab and making my way back home.  If you two so much as show up on the doorstep of my house or my work without either a warrant or my express invitation, I’ll press charges.”  He didn’t have the energy to try and muster a smug smile.  He couldn’t even look at them.  His skin felt thin. Instead, he stood in the face of their silent response for a moment before nodding and heading to the door.

“Someone should wait with yo--”  Stiles rounded on Hale, pale and angry.  The detective aborted his attempt to stand and plopped back down onto the bed, glaring at the floor.  The man certainly had  _ that _ expression perfected.  

Then, Stiles turned and left, pulling his phone out to get a cab.  He wasn’t heading home, though.  He had too much research to do.  Files to pull and databases to hack.

And he was determined to get some answers.

 

\---

 

“Well...that was fast.”

Stiles stayed quiet, watching Allison’s face pale as she stared blankly at his desk.  Her hands covered her belly.  Everything about her reaction to the update was terrifying him.  There were a few beats of silence before her jaw clenched and she looked at him again, “Thank you for doing this for me, Stiles.”  Her eyebrows drew down, “Nothing happened, right?  She didn’t notice you?”

Stiles sighed and busied himself with shuffling some papers around, “She did say hello, but I left right away.”  He forced a small smile, “Nothing of note, I promise.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to tell her because a look of horror lit her face and the next thing he knew she was launching herself out of the chair and towards the door, spouting, “Oh my god.  I’m so sorry, Stiles, but I really have to go.  I have to tell my dad.”  She stopped in the doorway and looked back towards him as he was just started to round the desk.  He came to a standstill a few feet away, but didn’t know what to say in the face of her blind panic.

She was crying.

He didn’t know what to do with Allison crying.

“I’ll fix this.  I promise.”  She nodded to herself and turned away, “I promise.”

And then she was gone.

 

\---

 

He tried calling Allison, but she didn’t answer and Scott wouldn’t pick up his phone when he was working.  So he had to settle for an underwhelming text begging Allison to call him when she got ahold of her father.  

After that, Stiles knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else.  He tried to work on some other missing items cases he’d been putting off in favor of more exciting adventures, but he gave up after an hour of staring blankly at his keyboard, watching this morning’s events play out over and over again in his mind.  Allison had been  _ crying. _ Actual tears. Finally giving up, he dove back into his research from the night before.  He’d exhausted his current resources chasing after information on Kate Thompson (real name - still eluding his investigative skills).  Instead, he decided to focus on the other (if fairly new) stinky pit of trickery that was Detectives Reyes and Hale.  

Hacking into the police department’s files in the wee hours of the morning had been painfully easy.  He could just imagine his dad scolding him for doing it, but that had only spurred him on.  His father would have wanted him to get to the bottom of whatever was terrifying Allison.  There was no stopping a Stilinski when something threatened his family.  He’d skipped the detectives profiles. If he was honest...he hated to shatter the illusion of Gala-Derek more than it already had been. Stiles had a great imagination. He could just pretend the glaring Detective had a twin somewhere who was shy, wonderful, nerdy, and perfect.

Instead, Stiles had gone straight to their caseloads, looking for anything that the woman of the hour was involved in. He’d only gotten through part of the files by the time Allison had shown up.  And now, returning to them, he was very aware that he was running on fumes.  His eyes were burning and the coffee he was drinking had long since stopped working its magic.  Putting his face in his hands, his eyes dropped closed for just a minute.  A quick breather and then he’d get right back to his research.  Just a minute.

He woke up a few hours later, the sun setting through the blinds in his office.  He peeled his cheek off the keyboard and tried to rub the impressions away as he blinked in confusion, not sure when he had fallen asleep or what had woken him up.   Stiles peered at the blank screen of his laptop, trying to remember where he'd been at in his research.  

He was reaching out to wake the machine up when a figure stepped out from behind one of his file cabinets.  

“Hey, Jim.”  

Kate was in his office.  Smiling at him like some predatory cat enjoying the sight of its chosen meal.  She raised an eyebrow, “Or should I call you Miec--”

“Oh god please don’t,” came blurting out instead of something that more reflected the panic that was throbbing through his chest.  

She blinked at him in surprise.

Stiles pressed a hand to his forehead, he could act cool about this.  He could totally handle this and get her out of his office without dying, right?  He was a professional.  He had to be.  His bat was leaning in the corner by the door, as far away from his current position as possible with a crazy woman in between.  He would just have to rely on his amazing verbal skills.

“You’re in my office.”  Oh.   _ Brilliant _ , Stilinski.  State the obvious.  He made himself look back at Kate, who was now approaching his desk, “Why are you in my office?  And watching me sleep?”  He screwed up his face, “What kind of creepy nonsense  _ is _ that even?”

She stopped directly across from him, smiling down for a long moment before elegantly sitting in the chair Allison had vacated just that morning.  The orange light bleeding through the cluttered office illuminated her like fire.  The illusion of warmth didn’t fix the dead look in her eyes.  Stiles really wished it would. The smile stretched wider, “Mr. Stilinski...I’m here because I don’t like the idea of private investigators investigating me.”

A frown pulled at the corners of his lips, “How did you even find me?”

Kate pursed her lips as she considered him.  Then, she smirked, “Most people don’t give me one name and then sign their receipts with something completely different.”

He was an idiot.

She leaned forward to prop her chin on her knuckles, “Now.  Mr. Stilinski, I would be  _ very _ interested in knowing who hired you to find me.”

What was it with all these people trying to get information out of him?  He rolled his eyes, repeating his spiel for the second time in twenty-four hours,  “I’m not at liberty to share my client’s information with you.  I run a legitimate business.”  When she opened her mouth to speak, he raised a hand and she hesitated.  “But, I will tell you that it was just an identification.  And I can guarantee you there was no nefarious intent.”  He leaned his forearms against the edge of his desk, “Though I wouldn’t be able to guarantee the same of you.”

They regarded each other for a moment before she nodded and stood.  She glanced at the plant in the corner and smiled before returning her full attention to him, “I like you, Stilinski.  You’re cute.”  He suppressed a grimace at that.  “But you should learn to fold while you’re ahead.”  Kate planted her hands wide on the edge of his desk and loomed forward, smile sharp, “And you’re  _ way _ behind in this game.”

“If you don’t leave my office right now, I will call the police.”

There was a long stretch of tense silence before a delighted laugh spilled out of her and she straightened.  He watched her saunter toward the doorway.  Pulling the door open, she glanced back at him, “Oh, that reminds me.  I did some spying of my own.  And I’d recommend staying away from Derek Hale.”  The sharp smile was back and for the first time Stiles saw a flicker of life shatter through the cold.  He instantly regretted wishing to see anything like it. Her voice was a velvet purr, “I have a very  _ special _ interest in Derek Hale.”  Then she fluttered her fingers in a wave and was out the door, calling, “See you soon!” even as the door closed. He would have yelled something witty like 'no you won't' after her, but his mouth was too dry to form words.

Silence reigned through the office.  Stiles clenched his hands to try and ignore the shaking even as he carefully counted to keep his breathing even.  She’d been following him.  He glanced toward the plant in the corner.  And she knew where at least one of the cameras for his office’s security system was...not that it was a stellar hiding place, he had to admit.  The potted plant?  He’d have to stop watching spy movies with really obvious gear placement in the future or he might -- focus.

“Focus.”  He breathed it like a mantra as he let his eyes close.  “Focus.”

He checked his phone, but there was nothing from Allison or Scott.  He didn’t want to drag Lydia into the situation.  In fact, he felt like there were too many people involved as it was.  That really left him only one avenue to take for any semblance of help. As much as he loathed the idea.  But, as Kate had said...he was way behind in this game and he was  _ so _ done with it.  

His hands were steadier now as he picked up the receiver and dialed.  It felt like admitting defeat as he counted the rings, tapping his fingers to an uneven rhythm against the wood of the desk.  Then a voice picked up and he tried to push away the twisted feeling in his guts.

Stiles waited until the short greeting was through before taking a deep breath.

“Hello, I’d like to be connected with Detective Hale, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Hope you guys have been having a lovely week. Here is the next installment! With how rl is for me right now, I'll probably stick to once a week updating for the chapters. Thank you all for the kudos and the bookmarks, I really do appreciate any and all feedback. 
> 
> Hope you guys continue to enjoy and than you again for taking the time to read!


	5. Chapter 5

There was a firm knock at his office door and Stiles scrambled up from where he’d been hiding under his desk with his laptop.  His bat in one hand and the other clenched in a fist, he moved toward the frosted glass, through which he could see the vague shadows of two forms.  One broad and one slight.  

“Who is it?”  Better to be safe than sorry when potentially homicidal criminals were involved, after all.

“It’s us,” came the gruff response from Mr. Sunshine himself.

Unlocking the door, Stiles pulled it open and the three of them just stared at each other for a moment.  The two detectives were dressed in street clothes again, but Hale had decided to match his partner with his own leather jacket.  They looked like they were part of a gang.  An attractive gang.  With impressive looks of angry concern.  Hale’s eyes flickered over him briefly before landing on the bat.  He nodded in approval before pushing past Stiles and into the small space.  

It wasn’t fair that the detective smelled amazing and that it managed to distract Stiles momentarily from his panic as he followed the other man’s movements.  Detective Reyes brushed past with a knowing look before his two guests checked the entire room.  Satisfied that Kate wasn’t hiding behind any bookshelves, they turned back to him as he closed the door and locked it again.

“‘Alpha Eye?’  How did you get a name like that?” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Reyes, “My best friend came up with it, thank you very much.”  He swung the bat up to rest over his shoulder as he made his way back toward his side of the desk.  “He’s a vet so he was determined to make it animal related, so the idea of an alpha being the ‘top dog’ mixed with ‘private eye’ apparently seemed perfect to him.”  Leaning the bat against the desk, he slumped down in his chair, legs sprawled out straight as he slid lower.  “And trust me, when Scott starts throwing around his earnest looks of enthusiasm,  _ anyone _ would be hard pressed to tell him no.”

Quiet fell and he looked over to find the detectives settled in the chairs opposite him, listening attentively.  It was weird.

“You look awful,” came the helpful comment from Hale.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Thanks for that.”  Forcing himself to sit back up, he leveled a pathetic glare in their general direction, “It’s not like the past couple days have been a walk in the park.  I was hoping I’d never have to see either of you again.”

Reyes glanced over at her partner, whose gaze was busy travelling over the stacks of papers that covered the desk and parts of the floor.  She sighed, “You said Kate was here?”

“Yeah.  I had fallen asleep in the middle of research and woke up to find her here.”  At their alarmed looks, he nodded, “That was my reaction.  She’s been following me.”  Stiles jerked his chin toward Hale, “Specifically recommended I stay away from you.”

The other man’s eyebrows drew down even further (Stiles wasn’t sure it was possible, but there it was) and his jaw clenched as he pushed out of the chair to stalk toward the window, peering out through the blinds.

Reyes closed her eyes for a moment, “Well, there goes the element of surprise.”

“I should have known she’d be this resourceful,” Hale all but growled from his new perch, “She’s had almost fifteen years to set up a network.”

Stiles frowned, “What is going on here guys?  As much as I love being in the dark, I’m directly involved now and I  _ really _ could use some answers.”

Glancing over at her partner, Reyes hesitated.  

“Do you know the name Gerard Argent?”  

It sounded familiar.  He had to push through the muddled state of his mind, “I think so...didn’t he kill a bunch of people a while back?”

Hale spoke up, “He killed twenty-five people over the five years he was active.  Fifteen years ago he was put on trial and sentenced to life.”  There was a heavy pause, “He died last week in prison.  Heart attack.”

“And what does this have to do with Thompson?  Or me?”

At that, Hale jerked his gaze to Stiles, confused, “Thompson?”

He was missing something, “Kate Thompson?  Scary lady who showed up here?”

“Oh geez.  You didn’t even know,” breathed Reyes as she leaned forward and covered her face in her hands.

Stiles watched Hale abandon the window to walk over to him, expression tight, “Thompson is one of her fake names.  You’re telling me you didn’t even know you were tracking Kate Argent?”

He blinked, “What?  Who?”

“She’s Gerard’s daughter.  She was his partner in his later murders, but there was no evidence tying her to any of them.  And Gerard confessed to working alone so she walked.”

Stiles’ chest constricted and his vision started narrowing as he tried to breathe, “Oh my god, oh my god…”  He closed his eyes and gripped the arms of his chair.  Fuck. He did not need this right now. Warm hands gently cradled his face and there was a quiet voice telling him to breathe.  It started counting, one, two, three, four, four, three, two, one, breathe, in, out, breathe.  He focused on the words, following them. Letting them lead him back to control.

As awareness came back to him in quiet waves, he found his forehead resting on a solid shoulder and hands soothing up and down his arms.  He jolted up and stared at Derek crouched in front of him.  The other man’s now-empty hands slowly dropped to his knees as he pushed back to standing.  

Stiles swallowed, face burning, “Uh...thanks.”

The detective made a noncommittal noise, but refused to meet his eyes as he moved back around the desk to sit back down beside Reyes.  She was looking at Stiles with concern pinching her eyebrows, but he shook his head and took a deep breath.  He was fine.  He’d examine what that whole thing was later.  

“So a serial killer was here in my office threatening me.”  It wasn’t a question, but the blonde nodded anyway.  “This is my life.”  Taking a deep breath, he leveled them with a serious look, “So her dad died.  Why not stay in hiding?”  His eyes narrowed, “And why are you guys interrogating people about a case that isn’t even yours?  Or even active?”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up and Stiles fought the urge to grab his phone and try to take a picture.

“How do you know that it’s not one of our cases?”

Oops.

Erica leaned forward, “Stiles?”

He pursed his lips before rolling his eyes, “I  _ may _ have poked around your department’s database.”  Ignoring their horrified looks, he gestured his hands vaguely towards them, “Well,  _ you _ all weren’t being helpful at all and it was shady as hell that you guys went to such…” he grimaced, “ _ lengths _ to try and get me alone to answer your questions.  I came to the natural conclusion that you guys weren’t on the up and up and lo and behold...you aren’t.”  Stiles rubbed the side of his face, staring up at the ceiling.  Sliding a pointed look over at the detectives, he continued, “Though...I really don’t think police who are flashing their badges on an unsanctioned case have any place to complain…”

A bright laugh burst out of Erica, “I like you, Stilinski.”

He grinned at her, “What can I say?  I’ve been told I’m irritatingly endearing.”

Erica snorted before crossing her arms and looking over at her partner, eyebrows raised.  Stiles followed her lead to find the other man frowning down at the floorboards.  He could see the tension that ran along Derek’s frame, culminating with his clenched jaw and dark expression.  At a nudge from his partner,  he sat up straight and gave a sharp nod.  

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he nodded again, “A few months after Gerard was sentenced, Kate targeted the family of the prosecutor who put him away.  She set a house fire.”  He pressed his fingers against his forehead, eyes slipping closed, “She was identified by a surviving member of the family and evidence was found at the scene that tied her to the crime.  She’s been running ever since.”  

He opened his eyes and looked to Stiles, “We believe she’s after the remaining family.  Revenge.  Gerard dying was just the…”  He trailed off, eyes doing the same as he tried to find the words.

“The catalyst.”

Derek’s gaze met Stiles’ again.  There was a long moment that felt like understanding.  Then Derek jerked his head in a nod before looking back to Erica.

The blonde reached out to rest her hand on her partner’s shoulder for a moment before turning to Stiles, “So...it’s a cold case, but murder has no statute of limitations.  The surviving members of the family are still alive and willing to testify.  We just need to catch her...which proves difficult when she’s so well connected.”

Stiles frowned, “Why didn’t you grab her that night at the diner?”

“We were going to,” came as a quiet grumble from Derek.

Erica grinned, “Yeah, we just had to have a positive identification.  One of our informants tipped us off to some suspicious activity we’d had him looking out for since Gerard died.  We’d waited most of the night outside the diner and when she showed up…” her eyes slid to her partner, “we were able to identify her, but we weren’t able to make the apprehension right away.”  She shrugged, “By the time we were ready to move in, she was talking to you.”  

Derek cleared his throat, “We moved into the diner, but she was already gone.”

“You were the only lead that we had a potential of catching up to.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, “And so you try to get me alone?”

Erica shot him a sharp grin, “As you pointed out before...it’s not exactly proper to use our authority on an unofficial case when we’re off the clock.”  She pursed her lips for a moment, “Besides...we didn’t want to take the chance of Kate seeing cops cornering you.  Luring you seemed the best way.”

Stiles glanced to Derek, who was again glaring at the floor.  “Well...congratulations.”  He couldn’t help the bitter note that slid into his voice.  “It worked.  But not well enough to hide from Kate, apparently.”

Shaking her head, the blonde sighed, “We were hoping to stay under her radar for a bit longer.  Whether she heard from her own sources or she was following you...either way, the cat’s out of the bag now.”

And wasn’t that a disturbing thought?  Kate Argent lurking in the shadows, watching his every move to see if he was a threat.  And what would have happened if she’d truly thought he was?  Rubbing his eyes, Stiles hated himself for the receipt oversight even more in light of the situation.  He guessed he was lucky the crazy murder lady had just shown up to intimidate.  Which reminded him…”Why did she warn me to stay away from you,” he jerked his thumb toward Derek, “specifically?”

There was a long silence, all eyes on the still form of the broody detective.

“Who hired you to identify her, Stiles?” was all he was rewarded with.  Stiles forgot to tamp down the warm reaction to the other man’s familiar use of his name.  Right...that was from when Derek wasn’t real.  Hale.  

Ugh, he was terrible at this.

What he  _ was _ good at was spotting an evasion.  Not that Derek had even tried to be subtle about it.  It was almost offensive.  He narrowed his eyes at the other man, but Derek’s expression gave no quarter.  Rolling his eyes, Stiles rocked back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair as he considered his options.

He didn’t want to out Allison, but she wasn’t really helping him much here.  First, she’d hired him to identify a homicidal individual (convicted or not, that was bad) and then she’d run off without any explanation.  And - he glanced at his phone - she hadn’t responded to his text.  There were a few missed calls from Lydia that he would have to grovel for forgiveness for not answering, but it wasn’t exactly at the height of his attention right then.  And the two detectives had actually been very forthcoming now that his life had been indirectly threatened.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles leaned heavily against the desk, “Allison Nelson.  She’s Sco -- my best friend’s fiance.  She just said her dad had heard rumors that a lady from way back when was in town and she wanted to have it checked out without being recognized.”

“Allison?”

Stiles looked up and met Derek’s narrowed gaze, “Yeah.  She and Scott got engaged like two years ago, but they still haven’t set a date.”  He pulled a face, “I think they’re just happy being, you know?  Marriage is just a label to them or something, so they haven’t been in a rush.  With the baby now, though...I think they’re planning on setting a date within the next couple months.”  Stiles made himself stop and clear his throat, “But...you didn’t want to know all that, did you?”

The other man frowned, “Do you have a picture?”

Okay, this was making Stiles worried, “Ye-ees.”  At his hesitation, Derek raised his eyebrows.  “Ugh, fine,” he grabbed his phone and scrolled through the pictures till he found one of Scott and Allison’s engagement photos.  He tossed his phone to Derek, “See?  The most disgustingly adorable couple ever, right?”

He and Reyes watched as Derek stared at the image on the phone with an expression of surprise.  The quiet lengthened.  Should he say something?  Was this a test?  Was he going to get his phone back or was it lost forever to the clutches of a frustratingly attractive grump?

The other man visibly shook himself and looked up at Stiles with a clenched jaw.  He maintained eye contact as he handed the phone back, “That woman is not Allison Nelson.”

What?  

“...What?”  

Eloquent.

Derek nodded to the phone in Stiles’ hands, “That’s...I mean…”  Stiles would find the frustrated huff that escaped the other man adorable if he weren’t so alarmed.  “Her real name is Allison Argent.”

Oh.

“Kate’s niece.”

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...more info! I am going to give full disclosure that I don't know the ins and outs of the law or law enforcement. So I apologize if there are inaccuracies. Some of it may just be completely imaginary. I hope it doesn't ruin the story for you if that is the case.
> 
> Anywho, another chapter in the bag! I'm going to work more on it this weekend and try and build my buffer back up. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and thank you THANK YOU again for the kudos!


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